Wedding Night
by PlayerPiano
Summary: It's Victor and Victoria's first night as a married couple...And they're both nervous enough to faint. Completed.
1. Victor

**I.**

"I mustn't carry on like this. I mustn't be so nervous," Victor said to himself as he crossed the entry hall. Pausing in midstride, he groaned. "Oh, what is the matter with me? What is Victoria going to think?" At the thought of Victoria, who had just gone upstairs to bed, Victor had one of his nervous tremors. As he took a step backward, his flailing hand hit a decorative vase that stood on a table next to the staircase. Before he could make a move to catch it, the vase fell to the floor with a smash. The echo was incredible, and Victor cringed at the noise.

He sighed as he knelt to pick up the shattered pieces of the vase, wincing as his knee landed on a particularly sharp shard of porcelain—it was nearly impossible to see all of the pieces in the gloom of the large entrance hall. The only light came from a guttering candle on a small table next to a settee, and it was hardly equal to lighting the immense space.

As he picked up the larger bits of the vase, Victor heard soft footsteps overhead. Looking up, he saw the faint light of a candle near the top of the stairs.

"Victor?" Victoria said. Victor heard the banister creak as the out-of-sight Victoria leaned against it. "I heard a crash—is everything all right?"

"Er, yes, Victoria, everything's fine," Victor answered. He jumped to his feet, hitting the hall table with his shoulder as he did so and sending it crashing to the floor. Groaning from both the pain in his shoulder and exasperation, he stooped to right the table.

"What was _that _crash?" Victoria sounded worried. "Victor, are you certain you don't need any help?" Victor could see Victoria's silhouette against the wall as she took a few tentative steps down the stairs.

"No," Victor replied as he hastily dropped the shards of vase he'd collected on the now upright table. "I mean, yes, I'm all right." He wiped some dust from his hands on his waistcoat as he straightened up. Victoria was silent for a moment. Then,

"All right, if you're certain." Another pause, this one slightly uncomfortable. "Will you...Are you coming upstairs soon?" Victoria asked. Even though she was out of sight, Victor could almost hear her blushing. Or perhaps he was just projecting his own feelings onto her--at the implication of going to bed, Victor had immediately begun twitching and tugging nervously at his cravat. A nervous sweat began to bead on his forehead.

When Victor answered, his voice had a slight tremor to it. "Y-yes, Victoria. I'll be...I'll be up d-d-directly. I just need to...er..." He glanced around hurriedly for an excuse to delay. Spotting a discarded newspaper on the entry's settee, he said, "Finish reading the newspaper." Rolling his eyes, he smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. _Finish reading the newspaper!_ Nervously he glanced up the stairs. He could still see Victoria's shadow on the wall; she seemed to be hesitating. The only sound in the dim, cavernous entry was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the nearby parlor. It seemed an eternity before Victoria answered.

Finally she said, "All right, Victor. Then I suppose I'll see you...directly." There seemed to be the tiniest bit of relief in her voice. Victor watched as the light disappeared from the stairwell; he heard Victoria's footsteps heading back to her bedroom. A door closed softly, and except for the clock, there was silence.

Letting out his breath in a _whoosh_, Victor sat down heavily on the settee. With his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, Victor stared at the floor through his fingers. He was absolutely disgusted with himself. Well, there was a good bit of nervousness mixed in with the disgust as well. Or perhaps it was abject terror. Either way, his chest felt as though there was a block of ice resting on it. Victor had never felt so frightened and nervous in his life--and considering the events of the past two weeks, including his brief marriage to a corpse, that was really saying something.

Now his living bride was upstairs, presumably waiting for him. The newly-married Van Dorts had arrived at the Everglot country estate early that afternoon. Victor and Victoria had been married that morning, and had decided (rather, Victoria's parents had decided) that they would spend their honeymoon at the Everglots' country home. Victor's parents had wanted to send the pair to a fancy resort somewhere to the south--the better to see and be seen by the elite class. Lady Everglot had quickly nixed that idea, on the grounds that it was hardly proper for a newly married couple to mingle freely in public. If that was the real reason or if Lady Everglot simply enjoyed shooting down Mrs. Van Dort's grand ideas, Victor wasn't sure. Perhaps a bit of both.

A few weeks in the country was what Victor and Victoria both preferred, even though they hadn't been asked. A little privacy, some time to get used to one another--that was what they wanted. Everglot Manor ("I don't believe my family has ever been much for creative names," Victoria had said with a smile) was certainly the place for privacy. Because of declining fortunes, the manor had been closed up for almost thirty years. Only the parlor, the breakfast room, and two front bedrooms had been opened and cleaned for the honeymooners. The place was musty and a little dank from years of disuse, but Victor liked it. Everglot Manor had an old-fashioned feel, with a lot of dark wood and marble. With a little work, the manor could be restored to its former opulence. Maybe a garden with hedge sculptures to the south, and rosebushes out front. Or lilacs. Perhaps some climbing ivy on the trellises, and perennials near the walk. A large, pretty garden would be the perfect place to stroll, or to catch butterflies...

_What am I doing thinking about landscaping?_ Victor asked himself. _There are slightly more pressing matters at the moment. _Such as: How long could he believably put off going to bed?

He simply couldn't believe what was expected of him. Victor's father had discreetly pulled him aside after the short reception for a "Bit of a talk," as William had put it. A bit of a talk indeed. While Victoria waited in the carriage to leave for the manor, Victor listened with growing shock as his father explained, with a lot of embarrassed throat-clearing, precisely what Victor's "husbandly duties" consisted of. The new husband had the sudden thought that everyone (with the exception of Victoria, he hoped) knew exactly what sort of conversation was going on near the front steps. All of the adults made it a point to look anywhere but at Victor and his father, leaving Victor in some sort of bizarre, shame-filled bubble. Victor's eyes had grown wider and wider as his father spoke; he would have taken a step or two backward if he hadn't been rooted to the spot with disbelief.

With embarrassed color rising in his cheeks, a stunned Victor had asked, "I'm...to d-do _what_ to Victoria!" The words had come out in an almost breathless whisper--Victor was having just the slightest amount of trouble getting his lungs to work. As he darted a quick glance at the carriage that held his bride, another thought occurred to him. He looked back at his father--well, at his father's feet--and said, "And she won't...That is to say...She won't _mind_?"

An almost equally embarrassed William had shaken his head and answered in a patient tone, "Victor, my boy, _minding_ has nothing to do with it. These, er...'marital relations,' as they're called--they're what is expected of you. It's simply what must be _done_, do you understand?"

Victor might have given some sort of nod. He couldn't quite remember--he was in a bit of a daze. Yet, if he were to be honest, Victor would have replied that no, he didn't understand at all. He simply couldn't imagine himself and Victoria doing something like _that_. In a sudden flash, he thought about his marriage to Emily that had never quite happened. If it had..._Oh dear God! _

Why hadn't something like this occurred to him before? Where had the idea that marriage consisted mainly of talking to one another, taking the occasional walk, spending quiet Sunday afternoons together in the parlor, and bickering about how to arrange furniture come from? Considering it, Victor decided that there was no _possible_ way for a gentleman to conceive of...well, _that_ on his own. It all depended on fathers ambushing their sons five minutes before they were to leave on their honeymoons.

Wonderful. Not married for an hour and Victor was already terrified at the prospect of doing something that might shock, disgust, and/or completely alienate his new wife. He also hated his father.

The surge of hatred, unlike his terror, abated after a little while. Victor was quite subdued during the carriage ride out to the country. He tried to put it out of his mind, but one glance at Victoria was all it took to bring the knowledge of his impending "responsibilities" back to the fore. Victoria noticed something was amiss, no matter how hard Victor tried to hide it. All she had said was, "Is everything all right?" That particular question Victor could answer without having to lie. Of course everything was all right--he and Victoria were finally married, and he quite honestly couldn't have been happier. It was the prospect of ruining _her_ happiness about marriage that bothered him. He thanked everything good and holy that she hadn't asked what the matter was straight-out. What would he have said then? _Well, Victoria, my wedding present for you just happens to be "marital relations." Aren't you thrilled?_ Victor had wondered more than once why he simply couldn't give her a nice new sewing kit or something instead of...er..."husbandly duties." At least with a sewing kit he'd be sure of where he stood--at any rate, Victoria probably would still want to speak to him after receiving some thread and buttons.

The rest of the afternoon and evening, luckily, had been much better. There had been a flurry of activity as the two servants and the driver (all three in Victor's parents' employ) carted luggage into the house. Left alone for a moment in the sweeping drive, Victor and Victoria had stood together beside the carriage, gazing at the grand house in front of them. It seemed to rise toward them in welcome, as trite as that sounded. All at once, and at the same moment, the realization _"We really are married"_ dawned on the pair. It was one of those moments that really didn't need any words. Beaming, Victor offered his arm, which Victoria took with a smile that seemed almost too big for her face.

As they reached the large front door, Victor suddenly remembered something else that he was supposed to do. Luckily, it happened to be something he could do without (hardly) any embarrassment at all. Still, it occurred to him to ask permission first--married or not, politeness counted.

"May I help you over the threshold, Vic--Mrs. Van Dort?" he asked. Victoria gave a small laugh.

"Of course you may, Mr. Van Dort. I would be very much obliged," she answered, sounding pleased.

In what he hoped was a graceful movement, Victor managed to sweep Victoria into his arms. _Do not drop her, whatever you do!_ he warned himself. He staggered only slightly as Victoria settled herself into his arms. Feeling quite proud of himself for not accidentally tripping or banging Victoria's head against the doorframe, Victor carried his new wife into the entrance hall of their temporary home.

Holding hands most of the way, the two of them had explored the parts of the house that had been opened for them. Everything was new to Victoria as well--despite this being one of her family's houses, she'd never been inside it. Victor was thrilled to find a piano in the parlor. It was a little out of tune, but he could fix that easily. Perhaps he could even give Victoria a music lesson while he was at it. He felt cheered by the prospect. Music was the one thing he _was_ confident about.

Most of the afternoon and early evening was spent in the parlor. Victor and Victoria had their first tea together, and after that a short walk around the grounds. What they had talked about, Victor couldn't remember--it all blended together, their conversation creating a kind of music of its own. At least, that's how it seemed to Victor. As darkness fell, the two of them were sitting on a small, somewhat dusty couch in front of the parlor fire. Victoria was reading aloud from the only book she'd been able to find in the house--Verne's Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Victoria had told him she no idea what this particular book happened to be doing at the Everglot estate. To her knowledge, her grandfather had never expressed any interest in science fiction. They had a good laugh together about the strangeness of the selection. Captain Nemo's adventures on the _Nautilus_ made for very odd reading on a honeymoon. Hardly the most romantic of subjects, after all. Not that it mattered. Victor would have been more than happy to just sit quietly listening to Victoria read, and letting his arm rest on the back of the couch over her shoulders, for the rest of the night. It was all very...sweet. Pleasant. Listening to Victoria read about the submarine shaped like a whale, Victor was more sure of his love for her than he ever had been. Best of all, it pushed the thought of his conversation with his father out of his mind completely.

Their first real kiss happened on that couch, over the open volume of Verne's fantastic story. It was all so sudden, and happened so fast. Victoria's voice had started to give out, and she happened to look up at Victor only to catch him gazing at her intently. Victor wasn't quite sure what had come over him; maybe it was that Victoria just looked so..._pretty_, there in the firelight. Whatever the reason, he'd leaned forward, not really quite sure what he intended to do. He was rather glad when Victoria decided for him--she'd placed a hand on his shoulder, leaned up, and kissed him. It was wonderful.

Then they had pulled apart, and just looked at one another. Victor had assumed that Victoria would go back to reading (actually, Victor was rather interested as to what happened next in the story), but he was wrong. That was when Victoria had said the words that had thrown him into his new fit of nerves.

"I'm rather tired, Victor," she had said, closing the book. With her hands clasped in her lap, she'd looked at the floor rather than him when she continued, "I believe I'll go upstairs now. To bed, I mean."

She'd stood up, maybe expecting Victor to follow her. Victor wasn't really aware of anything but cold dread after Victoria had said, _"To bed."_ He must have looked a little dazed, because Victoria had placed a hand on his shoulder. At her warm touch, he had jumped just the tiniest bit. He'd looked up at her, and stammered,

"What? Oh...er, yes. To...bed. I'm rather tired as well. Perhaps we should go to bed...ah, for sleep! Sleep, of course...Because we're rather tired..." Springing up, Victor had nearly turned the couch over.

If Victor's babbling had confused or worried her at all, Victoria didn't show it. Maybe he was imagining it, but it seemed to him that Victoria seemed the tiniest bit..._nervous_? Was that it? At any rate, she had simply smiled in that quiet way of hers, taken a candle, and started for the staircase. Victor had watched her go, wondering if he dared to follow her.

As it turned out, he hadn't dared. And that's why he was sitting all by himself in the dark entrance hall, his only company a guttering candle, the clock's ticking, and the shattered remains of the first piece of china he'd broken as a married man.

"Oh, Victoria," he murmured. "What will she think of me if I don't join her? What will she think of me if I _do_?" He briefly considered fleeing, and sparing Victoria (and himself, perhaps?) what was to come. Victor quickly dismissed that idea. He couldn't _leave_ her, he loved her--and besides, the last time he'd run off in shame the consequences had been a bit too bizarre for his taste.

"It's time I grew up," Victor said aloud, rising from the settee. "I shall do what is expected of me." His shoulders slumped as he looked up the stairs. "And if Victoria throws me out of the house, then she throws me out of the house."

Picking up the candle, Victor walked over to the staircase. He hesitated at the foot of the stairs, his heart trying

valiantly to leap out of his chest. Taking a deep breath, Victor headed upstairs to bed.


	2. Victoria

Disclaimer: Again,I don't own anything related to "Corpse Bride" or its characters.

**II.**

_Poor Victor_, Victoria thought to herself as she walked back into her bedroom. _He's just as nervous as I am._ In a way, that realization made her feel a bit better--she wasn't alone. In another, the knowledge that Victor was nervous enough to start accidentally breaking china (that's what it had sounded like, at least) worried her a little. She had just assumed that Victor would know what to do...if anything was to be done. If he didn't, then it was the blind leading the blind. Or rather, the completely inexperienced leading the completely inexperienced.

Perhaps she was being unfair. After all, Victor was even more shy than she was. And really, whoever was more shy than Victoria was a very shy person indeed.

She closed the door to her room, and wondered what to do next. She _was_ tired, but she didn't know whether she was supposed to go to sleep right away or not. What was the etiquette for wedding nights? Victoria hadn't a clue. It wasn't as though her mother had ever given her much advice. The topic of wedding nights was hardly one that could be openly discussed, even with one's mother--especially with Victoria's mother. And of course it wouldn't have been proper for Victoria to bring up the subject herself. All Victoria knew about wifely duties was that she was supposed to run the household, support her husband in whatever he did, and hopefully be his partner. _And love him_, Victoria thought to herself. Not that love was a requirement, according to her mother. But Victoria considered herself lucky. She happened to be _very _much in love with Victor, and wanted so much to make him happy. That evening in the parlor had been wonderful. Reading aloud, Victor's arm about her shoulders...their first kiss...

Victoria smiled at the memory. Yes, she was incredibly lucky. She was rather surprised that she and Victor had been able to marry at all, considering all that had happened. After all, Victoria was technically a widow. Etiquette required that she would have to wait at least three years, or more, before marrying again. Disloyal as it was, Victoria was rather glad that her father and mother had been reduced to gibbering messes that night the dead had walked in the town square. Proper protocol had been the last thing on their minds. Yet they were still very aware of Victor's money, so of course the marriage had been allowed to go ahead.

Sitting down on her bed next to her unopened travel case, Victoria thought back to the evening after she had married Barkis. She could hardly repress a shudder. _She had married a murderer. _Maybe she was lucky that she wasn't quite sure what to expect on a wedding night--whatever it was, it certainly wouldn't have been enjoyable with _him_. It was very likely she wouldn't have lived to see the morning. Victoria didn't even want to consider what might have happened to her had not Fate, in the form of poison, intervened. She probably would have wound up like that poor corpse woman Victor had married.

_The corpse woman Victor had married_. She said the words to herself a few times. Victoria wondered vaguely why it didn't bother her. Perhaps because everything had turned out for the best. She hated to think what Victor must have felt when he learned that she had married someone else. They hadn't talked about it, about any of it--at least not yet. It was all so..._bizarre_. That night, after Barkis's death, she and Victor had simply walked back into the village, their arms about each other. They hadn't needed to say anything. Victoria was sure that once they'd had a bit more time, she and Victor would be able to discuss what had happened. It took some time to get over, however.

Heaven knew that neither set of parents were quite over the events of that night. Everyone except Victor and Victoria (and perhaps Gertrude, the widowed neighbor lady) seemed quite inclined to forget that the whole ordeal ever happened. Victoria knew that Victor wouldn't forget, though, and neither would she. Secretly, Victoria had promised herself that she would honor the memory of that woman. It was the very least she could do--after all, the other bride had been selfless enough to give her Victor back. A noble action. Victoria admired her for it. She hoped that the woman would rest peacefully, knowing things were set right. And that Victor would be well cared for.

Victoria decided that for the time being, she would be content with that knowledge. After all, she and Victor were husband and wife now--they had a lifetime in which to discuss what had gone before. What mattered now was the present. Their wedding night. Speaking of which, where was Victor?

Again Victoria wondered what she should do. She only had the vaguest idea of what went on between married couples behind closed doors. What little she knew came from a book she'd found among her late Aunt Lavinia's things two years ago. Victoria had been looking for a spare embroidery hoop in the attic when she'd come across the book. Out of curiosity she'd opened it and begun to read, sitting among the dusty boxes. Soon enough she realized that this was the sort of book that would get her strung up by her toes from the rafters if her mother caught her with it. It was a romance, set in the days of the knights. _Silly, nonsensical fluff _was Victoria's final pronouncement on the story. Yet it was intriguing nonsensical fluff. There were love scenes, for one thing. Kisses Victoria knew about, but this book went into a bit more detail. Of course the chapter always ended before anything..._untoward_ happened, but Victoria got the idea. There were a lot of twinges, carresses, and racing heartbeats. And kisses. But that was about it. While she'd learned several synonyms for "heaving," Victoria was still pretty much in the dark about what came next. If anything came next. She just didn't know.

It wasn't as though her mother had been much help. The closest Lady Everglot had come to informing her daughter about wedding nights had been one sentence of advice on the morning of her marriage. Victoria was to "close her eyes, and just try to think of something pleasant." What that meant, Victoria had no idea--and she had had no desire to try to question her mother further.

_Well, what will happen will happen_, Victoria told herself. Somewhat comforted, but still battling what felt like a nest of snakes in her stomach, Victoria decided she might has well prepare for bed. It might take a bit longer than usual--Hildegarde, her old nurse, wasn't there to help anymore. Slowly Victoria began to undress, stopping about every five seconds to glance at her bedroom door, making sure Victor didn't come walking in on her. _Oh, but surely he would knock_, Victoria thought, shaking the wrinkles from her nightgown and keeping a steady eye on the door. _Or would he?_ She suddenly remembered that there were two entrances to her room. There was the door she was standing guard at, and then there was the one behind her--the door that opened directly from Victor's room into hers. _What if he'd walked in already!_ He'd catch her in nothing but her petticoats and corset!

Victoria spun around, expecting to see Victor standing there in the doorway of his room. But no. The door was still closed.She let out a sigh of relief, and cautiously began to attempt taking off her corset. As she did so, she backed into the far corner of the room. Inconvient and dark, as the lamplight coming from her bedside table didn't throw itself that far, but at least she could keep an eye on both doors at once.

For at least two minutes, Victoria struggled vainly with the corset. Hildegarde had always tied her into it in the morning, and then assisted her in taking it off at bedtime. How in the world did she manage it? The thing was impossible. Eventually Victoria gave up, and decided she could stand sleeping in her corset until she learned how to negotiate it for herself. _Or perhaps Victor will help me with it_, she thought. Immediately she blushed. That _couldn't _be proper, not at all. Although...although her mother _had_ said that marriage was a partnership, hadn't she? _Perhaps if I helped Victor with his cravat and waistcoat, he could help me with my corset. Teamwork. _Victoria let out a high-pitched giggle before she could stop herself.

Oh perfect. She was becoming absolutely giddy with nervousness. What a way to greet her new husband, if he ever showed up; as an inane, giggling mess of nerves. Ashamed of herself, Victoria quickly slipped her nightgown over her head. Walking back over to her bed, she was halfway through turning down the covers on one side before she stopped. She didn't feel very tired anymore.

_I'll give him an hour_, Victoria thought, _and then I'm going to sleep._ She picked up her travel case and carried it to the wingback chair near the window, well inside the circle of lamplight. Taking out some embroidery, Victoria settled herself in the chair. She tried to focus on her sewing. Yet her eyes kept moving toward the doors, and she realized that she was keeping her ears keened toward any noise. _Was that a footstep? Is that Victor?_ Such thoughts kept interrupting her work.

And yet she wondered...Was she keeping such sharp eyes and ears out of nervousness, or out of expectation? Expectation certainly wouldn't be very proper or ladylike. But the fact was (and Victoria was a little shocked to admit it), she very much wanted Victor to come into her room.

To say goodnight, at the very least.


	3. Getting Started

**III.**

"I'm all right, everything is fine," Victor repeated the words like a mantra as he reached the top of the stairs. Squinting in the feeble light, Victor could make out the doors on the opposite wall. The bedroom doors. He knew from his and Victoria's earlier tour of the house that the door on the right was his, the one on the left hers--and there was an adjoining door inside.

Wonderful. New dilemma: which door? Should he go into his room first, and then go through the adjoining door to Victoria's room? Or perhaps he should visit his room first, perhaps put his nightclothes on, then come back out into the hallway and knock on the outer door? No, no. What if Victoria was still dressed, and Victor showed up in her room with his nightshirt on? Whatever would she think then? Or what if _he_ found _Victoria_..._undressed_? At that thought the ice block that had been resting on Victor's chest plopped down into his stomach. He shook his head a little to clear it. Surely, surely it wasn't normal to be _this _terrified--although he really didn't know, since his father hadn't mentioned it. What was wrong with him? It wasn't as though he didn't find Victoria attractive--he did, very much so (_and perhaps, _he thought, _deep down, that's part of what's scaring me so much_). It was just...Victor had to stop and think. What _was _the matter with him? _Well for heaven's sake, I love Victoria, _he thought. _I find her attractive, and most of all, I respect her. How in the world can I do...well, _that _with a clear conscience? _He really and truly hoped that Victoria wasn't feeling the same way he was. Victor wouldn't wish this kind of fear and trepidation on anybody.

Enough. This was getting ridiculous. The longer he waited, the worse it would be. He was a married man now, and he had to stop being so...so..._spineless_. Perhaps it was best to just forge ahead, knock on Victoria's door, and see what happened. Never mind getting prepared for bed just yet, never mind trying to analyze motives. The last thing he needed was an excuse to delay further. _I will do what I am supposed to do_, Victor thought to himself. _No more excuses. Besides, it's Victoria--I love her. And she loves me. _Victor gulped. _I hope she still does in the morning..._

Quickly, so that he didn't have a chance to think twice about it, Victor strode over to Victoria's door. He raised a fist, bit his lip, and knocked gently. Immediately he dropped his hand and took a step back. There was no sound from Victoria's room. Evidently, she hadn't heard him. Or else she was asleep. _Well, if she's asleep, I really shouldn't disturb her...No! Stop that! No more delays!_ Victor sighed. He'd have to knock harder.

Just as he was raising his hand to knock again, Victor heard soft footsteps on the other side of the door. Before he could compose himself, the door opened, and there stood Victoria. Victoria. In her nightgown.

"Hello, Victor," she said, smiling as she pulled her wrap a bit closer around her shoulders. She pulled the door open a bit wider, and Victor was bathed in the yellow glow of the lamplight coming from her bedside table.

"Hel...Hello, Victoria," he said. He ran a hand nervously through his hair, and immediately felt like a fool. He should at least _attempt_ to be suave. So Victor dropped his hand from his hair and tried to put it nonchalantly in his coat pocket. Victoria continued to gaze at him as he tried to find his pocket without looking away from her. _What happened to my pocket?_ he asked himself. And then, _Oh, that's right--this coat doesn't have pockets._

Victor coughed and settled for putting his arm behind his back. He was trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make him sound like a complete ninny when, as though sensing his discomfort, Victoria came to his rescue.

"Have you come to say goodnight?" she asked, folding her hands in front of her. "I was just preparing for bed. Well, actually, I've already prepared for bed, I was just doing some embroidery while..." Victoria didn't finish her sentence. Instead, she looked down at the floor. What had she paused for?

"While...?" Victor asked, trying to prompt her. Then it dawned on him. "Oh! I...You were waiting for, er, me, then?" Perhaps this was a good sign. She hadn't locked the door on him, for one thing. And it was rather heartwarming that Victoria had sat up waiting for him.

Still looking at the floor, Victoria replied, "Yes, of course. I supposed that you'd be in to..." she paused, while Victor drew an anxious breath. How much did Victoria know, anyway? It wasn't as though Victor had shared with her what his father had said. Had her mother explained to her...No. Victor didn't want to venture down that avenue of thought. Besides, if Victoria knew what was supposed to occur tonight, there wasn't a chance that she would have willingly opened the door for him.

"Be in to say goodnight," Victoria finished. Inwardly Victor sighed with relief. But his relief didn't last long--if Victoria thought he was just here to say "goodnight," she was in for an incredibly rude awakening. _Oh!_ Victor thought to himself, disgusted, _Did I honestly just think that? How dare I?_ He looked at Victoria's face, trying to read her expression. She didn't look frightened, which was good. She looked happy to see him, which was very good. But Victor also thought he saw a bit of nervousness in her eyes. Victor didn't want her to be nervous, but how could he help it? Perhaps he could reassure her...somehow...Then it occurred to him that he hadn't answered Victoria yet.

He must have made quite the sight, standing there in the dark hallway holding a candle and staring into the middle distance as he argued with himself. Again, Victoria took matters into her own hands, for which Victor was grateful.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked. Victor was a little surprised at her tone. She sounded welcoming, if a little shy; but she also gave the invitation as though she too had been standing there warring with herself. There was an air of finality to it, as though Victoria was aware that she was taking what might prove to be an...interesting step.

It took Victor a moment to respond. _Victoria was inviting him into her bedroom!_ He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. Victor had been in Victoria's room before they were married, but that had been under _completely_ different circumstances--it hadn't even occurred to him where he was.

Afraid that nerves would cause him to actually giggle or do something equally unman-like if he tried to speak, Victor simply nodded. Victoria stood aside a bit, and Victor took a couple of steps forward before he had time to second-guess. And there he was. In his wife's bedroom. Just like that.

_It's a bit cozier than mine_, he thought, taking a look around. There was a lot of crocheted lace--on the bedspread's ruffles, along the edge of the curtains. The lamplight helped as well. Victor wondered why there wasn't a fire lit, before he recalled that he and Victoria had told the servants not to worry about lighting the upstairs fires, as they didn't know when they'd be retiring. As Victor surveyed the room rather inquisitively, Victoria softly closed the door behind him.

The sound of the door swinging home made Victor jump slightly. He turned to see Victoria standing at his elbow.

"Here, let me take that for you," Victoria said, indicating the candle. Victor thanked her as she took the almost-dead candle from him and blew out the weak flame. Victoria's hand had brushed his when she took the candleholder, and when she blew it out her breath had landed on his wrist. Victor gazed at Victoria's back as she placed the extinguished candle on her bedside table and shivered a little. Why was he suddenly so aware of accidental touches?

As Victoria turned back to him, he noticed that she looked a little different. When she'd opened the door, Victor had vaguely registered that she was in her nightclothes, but he hadn't taken a good look. It wasn't exactly polite, after all. But now he wondered. _What was different?_ Trying not to be too obvious about it, he shyly looked Victoria up and down as she stood before him.

The nightgown went down to the floor, hiding her feet. The sleeves reached her wrists, and the neckline...Oh, _that_ was it. Victor, for the first time, could see Victoria's neck. _She has a very pretty neck_, Victor thought before he could stop himself. He felt like a bit of a rake, standing there staring at his wife's neck, but he couldn't help it. He could even see a bit of her collarbone. As he stared, Victor felt a deep flush start to creep up his own neck. He looked at Victoria's face to find her looking at him curiously. He quickly cleared his throat, and put his arms behind his back. _It's now or never_, he thought, and, steeling himself with a deep breath, began, "Victoria..."

"Oh, how rude of me," she interrupted, taking a step forward. "I haven't asked you to sit down." Victoria gestured at the pair of wingback chairs near the windows. "Would you like to have a seat? It would be more comfortable, I think, then standing here in the middle of the room." Before Victor could respond, she had passed him and was already halfway toward the chair she had apparently abandoned earlier. For no logical reason that he could discern, Victor found himself smelling the air after she had passed. _Is that lavender? It's rather nice, _he thought. _No, no, _he admonished himself, _stop that. Even if she is your wife, it's hardly proper._ Clearing his throat again, Victor followed Victoria to the chairs, taking the seat opposite her.

He fidgeted a little, trying to decide how he should sit. Finally, while Victoria watched him with a small smile, Victor settled for leaning toward her with his elbows on his knees. Still, he couldn't quite figure out what to do with his hands. They seemed like separate creatures as they wrung themselves together. Just as he was working up the nerve to address Victoria again, she spoke.

"Are you quite all right, Victor?" she asked, sounding concerned. Perhaps a little perplexed as well. Victor looked at her and hastily tried to fix a calm expression on his face.

"Oh, yes, Victoria, I'm all right," he answered in a voice that only broke a little. "Erm...Why do you ask?" Victor rested his chin on his hand and smiled at her, before thinking that he must look quite foolish. He dropped his hand and looked at his shoes instead.

"Only that...Well, you seem..." Victor looked up again as he tried to guess what she was about to say. _Foolish? Idiotic? Absolutely abhorrent, and please get into your own bedroom immediately?_ "A little nervous," Victoria finished. Victor let out a little sigh of relief. He looked into her eyes, and felt something that could only be described as a curious kind of warmth. _I really am in love with her_, he thought yet again. Victor didn't believe he'd ever tire of thinking that. He decided to just have out with it. Perhaps it would ease his fears a little. Or at least do something to lift the distinct air of awkwardness that seemed to be pervading the room. And maybe it was better for Victoria to have some forewarning as well. Yes. It was the right thing to do. Now if only he could get his mouth to cooperate...

"Victoria," he began again, wondering how to put it, "I don't suppose you know what, er, to expect. Tonight, I mean. Um..." Victor was beginning to flounder. Was this such a good idea? He looked down at the weaving of the chair's upholstery, as though he would find an answer there. But the upholstery was predictably silent. Victor was on his own. He began to pick nervously at the armrest as he continued, "Well, I was considering it, and I thought it only...fair to, um, talk to you before...er..." Oh, this wasn't going well at all. Victor rubbed his forehead, trying to think what to say.

"Before what, Victor?" Victoria sounded truly curious. Her head was tilted to one side as she looked at him fidgeting about. When Victor didn't answer right away, she sat back in her chair a little. "I suppose it has something to do with what goes on between married couples, is that right?"

"Why yes, actually, that's exactly..." _Wait, what?_ Victor looked at her, completely confused. Did she know? If she did, she didn't look very worried. _Have I been giving myself a near case of apoplexy for nothing?_ he wondered. His unspoken question was answered soon enough.

"No, Victor, you're quite right--I'm not sure at all what to expect," Victoria said, looking at her hands folded in her lap. She looked toward the shuttered windows. "I confess, I was actually in quite a state before you knocked on the door." Victoria smiled a little, still looking at the windows. "I am...quite nervous." She finished quietly.

Victoria's sudden confession made Victor feel a bit better. Not a lot, but a bit. Enough that he could say, "Oh, Victoria...I'm rather" (_terrified_)"nervous as well."

They smiled at one another briefly before both looking away. There was a silence, but not quite as awkward this time. It was almost companionable, as though sharing their nervousness had lifted some kind of curtain. Still, the evening was hardly over yet. Swallowing hard, Victor decided again to just have out with it.

"Victoria," he said quietly, looking at his knees as he spoke, "the very last thing I want to do is...frighten you." He paused.

"You do not frighten me at all, Victor," Victoria said kindly. But she also sounded as though she were sitting on pins, waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

"I'm...glad to hear that," Victor said. There was another pause, and then, "Oh, Victoria, I do love you."

"And I you, Victor."

"And I hope that, well, we can do...um, what is to be done without any...ill feelings," he finished lamely. Victor realized that he wasn't making all that much sense, but Victoria seemed to understand. Or else she was extremely good at pretending to understand. She was also extremely adept, Victor noticed, at taking over when he needed her to. Such as now.

"I will be honest," Victoria said, leaning forward a bit, "I really don't have the slightest idea what it is you're trying to tell me." She smiled again, and Victor managed to smile back at her. "But," she continued, "I trust that you know what is supposed to go on." She tilted her head as she looked at him. "Otherwise, I don't think you'd be quite so anxious."

Victor let out a small, slightly embarrassed laugh. He decided to go for honesty--it seemed to be working well so far. "I do have a..._vague_ idea," he admitted. Victor looked Victoria in the eye at last. "My fear has been that once we've...er..." Victoria nodded slightly, sparing him from trying to find a suitable euphemism. So he said, "I do not want to cause you any discomfort or anxiety, Victoria. I love you."

If Victoria minded that he hadn't really explained anything to her, she didn't show it. She simply leaned forward and placed her hand on his.

"I love you as well, Victor, and I trust you completely," she said seriously. "I don't know what it is we're going to do, but I promise that I won't hate you come morning."

_If you did know, you might not say that,_ Victor thought, then shooed the idea from his mind. He wrapped his fingers around her hand, and they sat together quietly for a moment.

"Well then," Victor said, breaking the silence. He was a bit shocked at how business-like he sounded. Probably the wrong tone to use in this situation, but at least he had the comfort of knowing that Victoria wouldn't run screaming from the room. Hopefully.

"Shall we...I mean, go to...bed, then?" Victoria asked slowly. _There's that word again,_ Victor thought. The warmth of the past few minutes suddenly fled from him, replaced by the sheer terror of earlier in the evening. He was really going to have to get over his sudden aversion to the word "bed." Maybe after forty years or so of marriage, he supposed.

Strangling the nervous squeak that was crawling up his throat, he tried to sound in control as he answered, "Yes, Victoria, perhaps we should." They seemed to have come to the unspoken decision that they would stay in Victoria's room. As if to prove it, both of them rose and walked over to Victoria's bed. Victoria had already turned the covers down on the left side of the bed, so she made her way over there. Standing next to the lamp on the bedside table, she hesitated. Victor stayed where he was, glad that he didn't have to force himself to take too many steps. He wasn't absolutely sure that his legs would carry him all that far. Finally, Victoria said,

"Victor, please don't think me forward..."

"Oh no, no, never!"

Victoria smiled as she shyly continued, "I noticed...I mean, you're...You're still dressed."

Was he? Victor looked down at himself. Oh yes, Victoria was right. He was still dressed. It occurred to him that it was hardly fair for Victoria to have to be in a nightgown while he was allowed to be dressed. Victor stopped and thought. For some reason that didn't make a whole lot of sense...

But never mind. "Er, yes, you're right, Victoria. Um...Shall I...er..." Victor's words seemed to be getting stuck halfway between his brain and his mouth. He stood there next to the bed, yanking nervously on his cravat and trying to finish his sentence. "Shall I un-d-dr...mmph...Un-un..."

"Oh no! No, you don't have to," Victoria said quickly. Perhaps a little too quickly, because she added, "I just mean...Are you, um, supposed to? I mean generally, when people go to bed, they...get undressed." Victoria carefully avoided his eyes.

_Stop acting like a gibbering dolt! _Victor said to himself. _What's Victoria going to think?_

"Perhaps," he began, "Perhaps I could go put my nightclothes on..." He trailed off. Victor had suddenly realized that if he left now, he'd probably never come back. And there was no way, none at all, that he was going to change into his nightclothes in front of Victoria. He'd probably frighten her to death. _I'm probably going to frighten her to death anyway,_ Victor thought almost sadly.

"Actually," he finally said, "I suppose I could just take my shoes off."

Victoria looked terribly relieved, or so it seemed to Victor. "Yes, all right, Victor," she said.

"Because really, shoes don't belong in bed," Victor said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and leaning over to unbutton his boots. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Victor wished he were alone so that he could smack himself in the forehead again. _What an idiotic thing to say!_

"No, shoes don't belong in bed," Victoria agreed. She seemed thankful to have something to talk about, so Victor decided to continue. If it would help to put Victoria at ease, Victor didn't care how moronic he sounded.

"They would bring in dirt, I suppose."

"Yes, they would."

"And that wouldn't be very clean."

"No, it wouldn't, Victor."

They smiled at one another, and then Victor went back to trying to get his shoes off. His fingers didn't seem to be working all that well. Behind him, he heard Victoria draw a breath. He stopped. _This is when she changes her mind and orders me out of her room, I just know it!_ Victor didn't look at her; he stared down at his shoes, cringing in anticipation.

Victoria gave a little cough. _Does she want me to turn around?_ Victor thought. He yanked his right boot off, waiting for Victoria to say something or do something.

"Um, Victor?" Victoria asked quietly, as though afraid she was disturbing the careful operation of his shoe-removal.

"Yes, Victoria?" Victor answered quickly. He finally turned to look at her. She was standing beside the table on the far side of the bed, the side that she had turned the covers down on earlier. Her hands were clasped, and a slow blush was starting to crawl up her neck.

"What..." she stopped, took a breath, and started again. "What am I supposed to do?"

Victor let out a little "erp" sort of noise. His father hadn't prepared him for that. What _was _Victoria supposed to do? Victor answered with what he hoped was a sensible response.

"Well, er, Victoria," he said, fumbling with his other shoe (he was rather desperate to have something to do with his attention rather than look at his wife), "I suppose you could get into...into..." Victor had trouble with the next word. "Into b-b-be..."

Luckily Victoria understood. Victor felt the mattress move as Victoria climbed onto the bed. Finally he extracted his foot from his shoe, and placed his boots carefully side by side on the floor. He turned around slowly.

Victoria was under the covers on the other side of the bed, reclining on the pillows. She had the coverlet pulled up almost to her shoulders. Her arms were free, however, and she had them almost crossed over her chest, clutching at the blanket.

Victor stared. Victoria stared back. Victor swallowed over and over again, trying to compose himself. _What now, what now?_ was all that he could think. Of course he knew (vaguely) "what now," but he hadn't a clue as to how to begin.

"Victor," Victoria said, her voice hardly above a whisper. She cleared her throat softly and held the coverlet in a death-grip. _She looks awfully pale_, Victor thought with sympathy. How in the world was he going to do this? Before he could respond Victoria continued, visibly trying to keep her voice level. "What now?"

Victor felt as though he'd been struck dumb. A few seconds went by before he dimly realized that his mouth was hanging open. He regained control of his jaw, and, with a feeling of panic rising in his chest, said nothing. What could he possibly say? Victoria looked at him with nervous expectation.

"Maybe...Maybe we should put out the lamp," Victor said slowly. If he didn't speak slowly and quietly, he was afraid he might scream from anxiety. Turning out the lamp seemed to be a good idea--if he couldn't see Victoria's look of horror (he was sure she'd be absolutely horrified in a little while), maybe it would be easier.

Victoria seemed to agree. Probably for the same reasons, Victor supposed. Being in the dark would be easier. He tried to keep his panicked breathing under control as he waited, still sitting on the edge of the bed and half-turned in Victoria's direction. She seemed a bit puzzled as to what he was waiting for. After a few seconds Victoria said, "Oh!" as she realized. The oil lamp was next to her side of the bed. She leaned over with a slightly trembling hand and turned the wick down, plunging the two of them into darkness.


	4. All the Time in the World

**IV.**

It surprised Victor how dark it actually was. He couldn't see a thing. Including Victoria. Cautiously he put a hand out, feeling along the blankets. Where had she gone? He squinted into the darkness, as though that might help. Finally, embarrassed beyond telling, Victor said in low voice,

"Um, Victoria...Where are you?"

He heard her answer in a whisper that barely reached his ears. "Just over here, Victor."

Ah, somewhere to his right. Victor pulled himself onto the bed, and on his hands and knees began looking for Victoria again. He moved slowly, wondering whether he wanted to find her or not. Still, he kept going, his hands moving across the blankets.

_Oh! _Victor's palm came to rest on something. It was firm, but rather soft. _What is this?_ he asked himself. He prodded it a little before realizing it was the pillow on his side of the bed. Suddenly Victor blushed, realizing that he'd have to be a bit more careful with his investigative prodding--that could have been Victoria. He took a deep breath. If this was the pillow, Victoria must be a little _that _way...

He moved his hand over to the right across the pillow. He felt another pillow (_Victoria's pillow!_), and then his fingers connected with something soft.

"Ouch!" came Victoria's startled voice from the darkness. _I guess I found her_, Victor thought stupidly.

"What, what happened?" Victor asked, quickly withdrawing his hand. "Are you all right, Victoria? What did I do?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Victoria reassured him. Her voice, however, gave away that she was in a bit of pain. "It was just my eye," Victoria said. From her tone Victor could tell she was trying to make him feel better. It didn't help.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" Victor said, feeling terrible. "Are you certain you're all right?"

"Yes, yes, don't worry," she said. Then there was silence.

Steeling himself, Victor crawled a bit farther. Eventually he was right next to her, and he lay down on his side. He didn't quite dare to touch her. As his eyes adjusted to the complete darkness, Victor could just barely make out Victoria's outline next to him. All he could hear was the sound of their breathing--from the sound of it, Victoria was having as much trouble taking a breath as he was.

Victor knew what he was supposed to do. The trouble was actually doing it. Admonishing himself to grow up, and vowing that he'd redeem himself to Victoria somehow, he took a deep breath. _Oh, I am so sorry, Victoria_, he thought. Closing his eyes, Victor rolled to the right, and maneuvered himself until he was on top of her. Victoria let out a startled "Oh!" as he landed a bit harder than he meant to. Victor mumbled an apology, his cheeks burning with embarrasment.

Victor fought the urge to vomit from nervousness. He was very aware that there was only a blanket separating him from Victoria. Something told him that that might be an encumbrance later, but he decided not to think about that just yet. Victor had the distinct feeling that he'd gone a bit too fast. Perhaps he wasn't supposed to jump right to this step yet--but he wasn't sure. What was he supposed to do with his hands? Not wanting to touch Victoria inappropriately (_any more than I absolutely have to,_ Victor thought with a cringe), he put his hands on Victoria's pillow. Probably they were on either side of her face, but he couldn't tell. After that, Victor couldn't move. Through his terror, he noticed that Victoria wasn't moving either.

Victoria let out a small gasp. Victor looked down at where he supposed her face was. "Victoria...Are you all right?" He hoped that she wasn't about to pick up the lamp from the nightstand and bash him over the head with it. Still, Victor felt he deserved it. This was an awful violation of Victoria's personal space, after all.

She gasped again, and said breathlessly, "Victor, I don't mean to...I suppose you know what you're doing, but...You're crushing me, just a little."

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Victor said. How stupid of him. He propped himself up on his elbows. "Is that...at all better?" he asked, feeling hopelessly embarrassed.

"Yes," Victoria replied. _She doesn't sound it, _Victor thought, feeling quite guilty. What could he do for her? Um...Ah, a kiss, maybe? The first time they'd kissed had been wonderful, after all. Yes, perhaps a kiss was just the thing. Still, it felt very, very strange to kiss Victoria while lying on top of her. He'd best ask.

"M-may I kiss you, Victoria?" Victor asked, his voice coming out sounding more like a croak. Even he couldn't see Victoria's face, he was almost certain that she was rather perplexed by his question. At any rate, it took her a moment to answer.

"Well, yes, I suppose you may," she said, shyness starting to creep back into her voice. Then she added, in a bit of a stronger tone, "In fact, that might be very nice."

At those words, Victor felt a bit more at ease. Victoria wasn't frightened. She trusted him not to do anything to harm her. Victor hoped he could honor that trust. _No, no--no good getting ahead of yourself! _At the moment, he needed to focus on a kiss. _Just one thing at a time_, he told himself as he leaned down. Closing his eyes, he aimed at what he supposed was the general area of Victoria's mouth.

Unfortunately, he'd miscalculated a bit. Instead of meeting Victoria's mouth, or even her cheek, Victor's lips connected with Victoria's ear. Or more precisely, the pillow next to her ear. He could feel her hair tickling his cheek as he groaned inwardly, feeling like an idiot. _You absolute ninny,_ he thought, _you can't even get a _kiss _right! _

"Victor? What are you doing?" Victoria asked. She sounded quite bewildered. He could feel her lips move against his jawline as she spoke. Victor couldn't answer. What could he possibly say that wouldn't make him sound completely foolish? He was the man here, he was supposed to know what to do. _If only it weren't so dark and confusing! And terrifying, and guilt-inducing, and_...Victor tried to decide what to do next. Should he attempt another kiss? _Oh yes, brilliant idea--maybe my next one will land on her _other _eye, and I can blind her completely._

As Victor lay there berating himself, he suddenly felt something wriggling against his chest. What was that?

"Victoria?" Victor asked into her hair. He still didn't quite dare to move; not so much out of fear for Victoria, since she didn't _seem_ all that frightened, but rather because he was completely at a loss as to what to do. _Well, you'd better figure it out soon! _he said to himself. The wriggling continued as Victoria answered, "I'm sorry, Victor...It's just that my right arm is sort of...wedged in between us."

"Oh!" Victor said, lifting his head a little. That wriggling must be her fingers. Without thinking, Victor asked the next question that popped into his head. "Where's your other arm?" As soon as the words escaped his lips, Victor rolled his eyes at himself. _How courteous of me, _he thought sarcastically.

But Victoria treated the question as though it were the most sensible thing in the world. "Don't worry, the other one's over here...Oh, that's right, you can't see me, can you? Um, it's just here--near my head...Next to your hand..." She trailed off. _I didn't notice that my hand was right next to hers, either? _Victor wondered if there were some sort of prize awarded for Most Bumbling and Inattentive Husband. The plaque might look nice on the mantel in the parlor.

Victor rushed to be accomodating. "I'm terribly sorry, let me..."

"No, no, it's nothing," Victoria said quickly. "It's only a little uncomfortable. I'll be all right." She stopped moving her hand. Now that she'd drawn attention to it, Victor could suddenly feel Victoria's arm from elbow to fingertips pressing against his chest. How could he have missed that before? How could he _possibly _have been so unthinking and self-absorbed?

"But I don't want you to be uncomfortable, Victoria," he said seriously. "What shall I...?"

"If you could lean back just a little, I think I can...erm, extract it."

"Of course." Victor propped himself up on his forearms and leaned away from her, feeling a sudden wash of guilt. He imagined her little hand turning purple underneath him. He quickly chased the thought from his mind, and said, "Does that help?"

"Yes, very much, thank you," Victoria answered. With a nervous laugh, she added, "I thought for a moment that it was going to go numb."

_Well, this is going extraordinarily well_. Poking Victoria in the eye, squishing the breath out of her, those just weren't enough--he had to go and cut off all the blood to her arm as well. _Idiot._ "I'm very sorry...Is it at all better now?" Victor asked with concern.

"Yes, it's fine," Victoria answered reassuringly. She started wriggling her arm again in an attempt to pull it out from under him. Victor leaned back as far as he could without sitting up, trying to help. His spine was starting to protest against the strain. He couldn't see what Victoria was doing; luckily, she was keeping up a bit of a running commentary.

"I think I've almost...Oh no, Victor, you don't need to get up completely, I think I've got it now. Yes, there."

Victor began to lean forward again just as Victoria finally pulled her arm free. As she did so, she accidentally dealt Victor a tooth-rattling backhanded slap across the face.

"Oh!" Victor cried in surprised pain. _Victoria is stronger than she looks, _Victor found himself thinking through the sting of the slap. He rolled off of Victoria and lay on his back next to her, rubbing his cheek.

"Victor! Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! It was an accident...Did I hurt you badly?" Victor felt Victoria sitting up next to him, and then her hand fumbling about until she touched his shoulder. "Are you all right, Victor?" she asked, sounding terribly worried.

Although his face still stung rather badly, Victor answered, "Yes, I'm fine, really...You didn't hit me all that hard..." He blanched. He hadn't meant for that to sound so accusatory.

"Let me light the lamp," Victoria said, "and then I can take a look at your face. Oh, I hope I didn't break anything...Is your nose all right?" Victor felt the blankets straining underneath him as Victoria leaned over to relight the lamp.

"Don't worry, you missed my nose," Victor said, wishing immediately that he could have come up with something a bit more witty and reassuring. _Oh, Victoria..._

"Well that's good, anyway," Victoria said. Victor could hear her trying to strike a match in the dark. Finally the flame caught, and a warm glow filled the room as Victoria turned up the lamp's wick. Victor sat up, hugging his legs up to his chest and burying his head in his knees. He supposed Victoria was looking at him, but he just couldn't bring himself to face her.

Sure enough, Victor felt her hand on his shoulder. Before Victoria could say anything, he mumbled into his knees, "Victoria, please forgive me. You must think me a terrible fool. I...I'm sorry." Victor couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Oh Victor," Victoria said softly, moving a bit closer to him. "I most certainly don't think you're a fool." She paused, and then said, "Victor, please look at me."

Slowly Victor raised his head and turned to look at his wife. He winced a little as he noticed that her right eye looked a bit red from where he'd poked her. A fresh guilt washed over him at the sight. But Victoria smiled at him reassuringly.

"Come over here near the lamp, and let me have a look at your face," she said, giving his arm a gentle tug. Grateful that he hadn't been unceremoniously thrown from the room, Victor moved over until he was sitting by Victoria's side on the edge of the bed. "Here, turn a little that way--yes--let me see," Victoria said. She held his chin gently in her hand, and made a little sympathy noise in the back of her throat--the kind usually reserved for sick children and injured small animals.

"Oh, Victor, I'm so very sorry," she said, removing her hand. "It looks as though you're going to have a bruise."

"At least you didn't poke me in the eye," Victor said, turning toward her. He touched her face softly with the tips of his fingers. "Your poor eye. Are you all right?"

Victoria took his hand between both of hers. "Yes, Victor, I promise," she said, looking up at him. Victor smiled weakly before turning away again. Looking at the floor between his feet, he said,

"I don't think I can apologize enough, Victoria." He squeezed her fingers gently and continued, "That didn't go quite the way it was meant to...as you're probably well aware..." Victor trailed off.

They were silent for a moment, listening to the faint sound of the clock downstairs. Then Victoria said quietly,

"Well, it was rather...interesting." There was the slightest hint of amusement in her voice. Victor looked at her again and opened his mouth to speak, but Victoria anticipated what he was about to say. "No, Victor, I wasn't frightened at all. Don't be worried about that."

Victor believed her. He could see from her eyes that she was telling the truth. _She really does trust me, _he thought. Granted, he hadn't gotten all that far, but..._No, don't think about that, _he told himself. _For once in your life, just stop worrying. _That was actually pretty sensible--had he really thought that? Surprising.

"I'm very glad to hear that," Victor said, putting his other hand tentatively on her knee. "I love you very much, Victoria."

"I know you do," she answered. "I love you as well." Victor gently removed his hand from Victoria's, and put his arm around her shoulders. Victoria rested her head on his chest, and Victor let his cheek rest on her hair.

They sat that way for several moments, enjoying the closeness. _Why can't it all be like this? _Victor wondered. _This is so pleasant, as opposed to...well..._Maybe Victor just didn't have the temperament for..well, _that_. Of course he knew that "marital relations" were part of his duty, but why go so fast? He sighed, pulling Victoria a bit closer to him.

"Well Victor," Victoria said, breaking their contented silence. "What shall we do now?" Victor didn't know. He was sure that he didn't want to make a second attempt at...er, _that_, and he was fairly certain that Victoria didn't either.

When Victor didn't answer, Victoria said, "Perhaps we should just...go to bed?" _What? Maybe I thought wrong! _Victor thought, panicking slightly. As though sensing his surprise, Victoria added hurriedly, "I meant to sleep, Victor, go to sleep! Not...er, to _bed_, you understand." She sounded a little embarrassed.

_Oh good, _Victor thought with relief. He said, "Well, I suppose we could...But I'm not really all that tired. Are you?" he thought to ask.

"No, not so much," Victoria answered. Then she lifted her head and looked up at him. "You know what we could do..." she said, getting up. Surprised, Victor watched her cross the room to the door. For a second Victor worried that she was going to leave and sleep in the parlor or something--the better to avoid any more of his advances. _That's not fair, _Victor thought, again disgusted with himself. _She just told you she loved you--what more do you want from her?_

But no, Victoria wasn't running away--she had just gone to the small table that stood next to the door. In spite of himself Victor was relieved. He watched as Victoria picked something up and headed back toward him, smiling slightly. Looking more closely, Victor saw that she was carrying a book. Victoria sat back down next to him, putting the book into his hands. Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, by Jules Verne.

"I brought it up here with me. I was already in my room when I realized I'd forgotten to leave it in the parlor," Victoria explained. Victor smiled at her, and ran his hand down the spine of the book.

"Shall we, then?" he asked. Victoria smiled widely back at him by way of an answer. She crawled onto the bed and made a pile of the pillows near the headboard. Then Victoria slipped under the covers, resting her back against the pillows. Victor quickly joined her. They made themselves comfortable, Victor holding the book with an arm around her shoulders and Victoria resting her head on his shoulder. It was very cozy, the two of them curled up together under the blankets with the yellow glow of the lamp falling over them. Victor opened the book and soon found the part of the story where they had left off earlier. Victor, on impulse, leaned down and gave Victoria a kiss. Then he began to read.

Victor soon forgot all of the terror, nervousness, and embarrassment of earlier as he read aloud to Victoria. _Perhaps this isn't _quite_ how a wedding night is supposed to go, _he thought as Victoria snuggled closer to him, _but it is lovely._

Besides, they still had two weeks at the manor house. And a lifetime after that. Really, a few weeks in the country, some privacy, and time to get to know each other--that was all they needed.

THE END


End file.
